DEitfSON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

AXTA SERIES, Price 25 Cents Each, Postpaid. All Others 16 Cents Each. 



Ail that Glitters is not Gold, com- 
edy, 2 acts. 2 hrs 6 

A Very Pleasant Ev farce, 30 m... 3 

Assessor, sketch, 10 min 3 

Babes in Wood, burlesque, 25 ra. 4 

Borrowing Trouble, farce, 20 min . 3 

Bad Job, farce, 30 min 3 

Bumble's Courtship, sketch, 18 m. 1 

Bardell vs. Pickwick, farce, 25 m.. 6 

Christmas Ship, musical, 20 min... 4 

Caste, comedy, 3 acts, 2 hrs. 30 m. 5 

Cow that Kicked Chicago, 20 m. . . 3 

Country Justice, farce, 15 min 8 

Circumlocution Office, 20 min 6 

Chimney Corner, drama, 2 acts, 1 

hr., 30 min 5 

Cut off with a Shilling, farce, 2* m 2 

Danger Signal,drama, 2 acts, 2 hrs. 7 

Desperate Situation, farce, 25 min. 2 

East Lynne, drama, £ acts, 2 hrs.. S 

Fair Encounter, 20 min o 

Family Strike, farce, 20 min 3 

Fruits of Wine Cup, temperance 

drama, 3 acts, 1 hr 6 

Friendly Move, sketch, 20 min. . 5 

Home, comedy, 3 acts, 2 hrs 4 

Homoeopathy, farce. 30 min. ... .. 5 

Hans Von Smash, farce, 30 min ... 4 

Hard Cider, temperance, 15 min. 4 

Initiating a Granger, farce, 25 min. 8 

In the Dark, farce, 25 min 4 

In the Wrong House, farce, 20 m. 4 

Irish Linen Peddler, farce, 40 min. 3 

Is the Editor In, farce, 20 min.... 4 

I'll Stay Awhile, farce, 20.min.... 4 

Ici on Parle Francais, farce, 40 m.. 4 

I'm not Mesilf at All, farce, 25 m. 3 

John Smith, farce, 30 min 5 

Just my Luck, farce, 20 min 4 

Kansas Immigrants, farce, 20 m.. . 5 

Kiss in the Dark, farce, 30 m 2 

Louva the Pauper, drama, 5 acts, 1 

hr. 45 min 9 

Love and Rain, 20 min... 1 

Larkins' Love Letters, farce, 50 m. 3 

Lady of Lyons, 5 acts. 2 hrs. 30 m. 8 

Limerick Boy, farce, 30 min 5 

Lost in London, drama, 3 acts, 1 h. 

45 min 6 

London Assurance, comedy, 5 acts, 

2 hrs. 30 min 9 

Lucky Sixpence, farce, 30 min 4 

Lucy s Old Man, sketch, 15 min.. 2 
Michael Erie, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 

30 min 8 

Mike Donovan, a farce, 15 min.. . 1 
Mitsu-Yu Nissi, Japanese Wed- 
ding, 1 hr., 15 min 6 

Model of a Wife, farce, 25 min... . 3 

Movement Cure, farce, 15 min. ... 5 

Mrs Gamp's Tea, sketch, 15 min. o 

Misses Beers, farce, 25 min 3 

My Wife's Relations, comedy, 1 hr 4 

My Jeremiah, farce, 20 min 3 

My Turn Next, farce. 50 min... . 4 

My Neighbor's Wife, farce, 45 min 3 
Not Such a Fool as He Looks, com- 

edy, 3 acts, 2 hrs 5 



On Guard, farce, 25 min 4 

Only Daughter, drama, 3 acts, 1 

hr. 15 min 5 

Our Country, drama, 3 acts, 1 hr.. 10 

Odds with Enemy, 5 acts, 2 hrs 7 

On the Brink, temperance drama, 

2 acts, 2 hrs 12 

Out in the Streets, 1 h. 15 min.. .. 6 
Pet of Parsons' Ranch, frontier 

drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs.... 9 

Pets of Society, farce, 30 min o 

Pull Back, farce, 20 mm o 

Pocahontas, musical burlesque, 1 hr 10 

Parlor Entertainment, 25 min 2 

Played and Lost, sketch, 15 min. . . 3 

Persecuted Dutchman, 35 min. . .. 6 

Quiet Family, farce, 45 min 4 

Regular Fix, farce, So min 6 

Rough Diamond, farce, 40 min 4 

Silent Woman, farce, 25 min 2 

Solon Shingle, comedy, 1 hr. 30 m. . 7 
Soldier of Fortune, comedy, 5 acts, 

2 hrs. 20 min S 

Seth Greenback, drama, 4 acts, 1 

hr. 15 min .f.. 7 

Schoolma'am (The), drama, 4 acts, 

1 hr. 45 min 6 

Slasher and Crasher, 1 hr. 15 min.. 5 

Squeers' School, sketch, 18 min. .. 4 
Sparkling Cup, temperance drama 

5 acts, 2 hrs 12 

Taming a Tiger, farce, 20 min ... 3 

That Rascal Pat. farce, 35 min 3 

Too Much Good Thing, 50 min.. . 3 
Twenty Minutes Under an Um- 
brella, 20 min 1 

Two Gents in a Fix, farce, 20 min. 2 

Two Puddifoots, farce, 40 min 3 
Ticket of Leave Man, drama, 4 

acts, 2 hrs. 45 min S 

Turn Him Out, farce, 50 min 3 

Toodles, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 15 m. 6 
Ten Nights in a Barroom, tem- 
perance drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs.. . 1 r 
Two Ghosts in White, sketch. 25 m o 
Uncle Dick's Mistake farce, 20 m . 3 
Under the Laurels, afcama, 5 acts, 

1 hr. 4S min 5 

Wanted a Correspondent , farce, 1 lr 4 

Wide Enough for Two, farce, 50 m 5 

Which Will He Marry farce, 30 m 2 
Won at Last, comedy, 3 acts, 1 hr. 



45 i 

Wonderful Letter, farce, 2$ min.. 
Women of Lowenburg, historical 

sketch, 5 scenes, 50 min. ...... 10 10 

Wooing Under Difficulties, 35 min. 4 3 
Yankee Detective, 3 acts, 2 hrs . .. 8 3 

ALTA SERIES— 25c. each. 

Beggar Venus, play, 2 hrs. 30 min. 6 4 

Early Vows, comedy, 1 hr 4 2 

From Sumter to Appomattox, mili- 
tary play, 2 hrs. 30 min ... 6 2 
Shadow Castle, play, 2 hrs. 30 min. 5 4 
Jedediah Judkins, J. P., comedy, 
2 hrs. 30 m — 7 



7 3 



T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph St., Chicago. 



THE WEDDING TRIP 

A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS. 



Adapted from the German of .Benedix by 

HILTON BURNSIDE SONNEBORN, 

Author of " Who Told the Lie" "The Woman Hater" etc. 



m 




CHICAGO: 
T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 
163 Randolph Street. 



CAST. 

SYLVAN DRISSLER Professor and Dean of Faculty 

at Kikeka College. 

CLEOPATRA His young wife. 

PHILIP BAKER His disciple and tutor at Kikeka 

College. 

DIGBY PUNTS a "make-himself-generally-usef ul' ' man 

DELIA A ladies' maid. 



Time of playing, about one hour. 



PROPERTIES. 

Books, and other apparatus of a schoolroom; a large trunk 
with ladies' clothing; a skull. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS. 

R means right, as the actor faces the audience; Z, left; C, 
center; R C, right center; D F, door in flat; RUE, right 
upper entrance, etc. 



NOTE: — Though this play has full directions for the stage, 
it may be played in any ordinary room. 



Copyright, 1890, by T. S. Denison. 



The IaZedding Trip. 



act I. 

Scene. — Study 0/ Professor Drissler's house; doors C. L. and 
R.; in the rear large square table covered with books, and small 
table covered with books; close to door C. round table covered 
with books; walls in rear covered by bookcases; bookcase R.; 
whole rather disorderly. 

Philip, {pacing up and down, book in hand, memorizing.) 
Arma virurnque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris — that meter is 
abortive — it is misleading, although the rythm is good. Arma 
virurnque cano, hexameter with Iambic measure. Arma 
virurnque cano, Trojae qui primus ab oris. 

Enter Digby Punts, carrying trunk on his shoulder, R. 

Punts. Great Scot, what a trunk ! Give us a hand, Mr. 
Tutor. ( With the aid of Philip puts trunk on floor, sits down o?i 
it and wipes perspiration ) Pretty tough ! lugging that Saratoga 
up these steep stairs. So the missus is coming to-night ? Well! 
I'm sorry. I didn't mind doing the chores/and blacking the 
boots, but I can't stand being bossed about by a female. I'll 
just give myself another week in this place. 

Philip. Why so ? You can perform your work as hereto- 
fore. Nobody will interfere with you. Professor Drissler as- 
sured me that there would be no change in the management of 
the household affairs. 

Punts. Did the professor say that? 

Philip. Those were his own words. 

Punts. Time '11 tell. I know better; the innocent pro- 
fessor don't know the power of a young wife. 

Philip (naively). Digby, you are an experienced man. 
Are women really so bad? 



4 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Punts. Are they? I'm sorry for you, poor lamb; she'll 
keep you in hot water and on the go. 
Philip. Not quite so bad as that. 

Punts. Lots of men talked just like you, and fell into the 
trap; after marriage they plead the baby act. I'm sorry for 
the professor. 

Philip. Do you speak from experience? 

Punts. No, siree! I was always too clever to bite at such 
bait. When I was 14 years old I was put on a training ship, 
and served Uncle Sam for ten years. I could have been a 
commissioned officer. But I had enough of it as captain of the 
foretop. After my honorable discharge I traveled through the 
country, just to gain experience, and I tell you, many a girl 
has tried to bewitch me with those enticing looks they give; 
but it was no go. I only work for bachelors, and remain a 
bachelor myself. 

Philip. Then you have really had no experience? 

Punts. Had no experience — that's just where I've been 
smart. I've watched others carry the cross. ( Wiping the per- 
spiration off his face.) You don't like spiders? 

Philip. No, I'm not fond of that insect. 

Punts. You hate spiders. I hate women. 

Philip. How can you compare spiders to women? 

Punts. Spiders weave nets to catch flies — women weave 
them and catch men. You're just such a poor fly for whom a 
net is being made. 

Philip. Well, if women's nets are not stronger than spiders' 
nets, one could risk being caught. 

Punts. Young man, beware! When I look about in this 
quiet chamber — where Romans and Grecians lie buried beneath 
the same dust — where immortality alone reigns — and then think 
of a woman disturbing these old heroes, and making the dust 
fly from theirgraves, pah, a chill strikes me! 

Philip. You are painting this prospective mistress in India 
ink. Why so black? 

Punts. You are too young to understand the intricacies of 
the sex. You were reared in an orphan asylum; afterward 
adopted by the professor, and educated for a tutorship. You 
never came in contact with women. Avoid women, says the 
philosopher. You see, Mr. Philip, there is an inner voice in 
our own nature warning us against them. 

Philip. Now you're talking nonsense, Digby. 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



5 



Punts. Nonsense? When you meet a girl, especially a 
bright, handsome one, don't you feel embarrassed? 
Philip. Sometimes. 

Punts. You blush, you hesitate to speak, cast your eyes 
downward — a peculiar sentiment. 
Philip. That's true. 

Punts. You see, that's the evidence of the inner voice that 
warns you against women. 

Philip. H'm, h'm. [Aside). That peculiar sentiment isn't so 
disagreeable. (Aloud). Well, did the professor heed this 
warning? 

Punts. Now he puzzled me; he never associated with 
women, was a disciple of the late Professor Donke — a jolly 
bachelor who had never allowed a woman in his sanctum. And 
master did the same. I've attended to the duties of this house- 
hold thirteen years, and I know he never took any stock in the 
so-called gentle sex. He's 42 years old — certainly past the 
age of indiscretion. All of a sudden, after standing safely 
on the shores of this dangerous lake, the water of which was 
constantly receding, he plunges into the mire — gets married. 
It's very mysterious. 

Philip. I can shed some light on this mystery. 

Punts. Well? 

Philip. He inherited this woman. 
Punts. Inherited her! 

Philip. Exactly — the professor's uncle dies, bequeathing 
his fortune of thirty thousand dollars to his brothers' children — 
the professor and his cousin — with the condition that they are 
to marry, the party refusing marriage to lose his share of the 
bequest. 

Punts. Of course thirty thousand dollars is a substantial 
reason for entertaining the idea of matrimony. I don't blame 
him, but I'm afraid it'll turn out bad. A man with his learning 
won't humiliate himself to the petty humors of a woman, and 
for points of etiquette, I assure you, worthy Mr. Philip, he'll 
have to look up more modern authorities than Sophocles and 
^Eschylus. {Rises). Let's carry the trunk into the bedroom. 

Philip. What do you suppose it contains? 

Punts. All sorts of foolishness — skirts, aprons, ribbons, 
soaps, perfumes, powders, and whatever women use. 

Philip. Did you notice the trunk is open, Digby? 

Punts. Great Scot! The hasp broke. I hope nothing 



6 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



fell out. (Opens the lid). No, you see everything is in perfect 
order. 

Philip. Oh! how tidy and neat! 

Punts. (Draws out a veil). Just look, how transparent. 
Just like a spider's net. (Takes out lace cap, collar, chemisette, 
skirts, etc. unfolding them, and hands them to Philip). 

Philip. (Receives them, holds them to the light, and lays them 
on table L.) Be careful — you might soil them. 

Punts. There's no end to 'em! 

Philip. Pretty patterns! Masterly embroidery! 

Punts. Nothing but useless stuff. 

Philip. How elegant! 

Punts. Superfluous trash. 

Philip. Magnificent apparel. 

Punts. (Holds a curling iron). What do you call this? 
Philip. I don't know. 
Punts. Looks like a sausage. 
Philip. Where is that worn? 

Punts. Oh yes, Mrs. Capt. Tarpaulin, on the "Minnesota," 
had one for crimping her curls. 

Philip. Don't unpack the whole trunk, Digby. I've seen 
enough. Let's put everything back in the same order and 
place. 

Punts. I'll do it. Hand them to me. 

Philip. Take your time, fold them just as they were. (Both 
trying to put them in old creases) . 

Philip. How was that folded? (Business). 
Punts. Confounded stuff. 
Philip. I can't find the old creases. 
Punts. The trunk is full. 

Philip. That will never do. Take out those skirts and fold 
them differently, to give us more room. 

Punts. You do it. I give it up. 

Philip. You tore them out. I can't put them back. 

Punts. It's your fault — you were inquisitive to see them. 
It takes women to do women's work. 

Philip. What are you going to say if she notices it? 

Punts. We'll be in a fine fix — oh, what a row? 

Philip. You know so much about women, can't you do it? 

Punts. No, I give it up. You try. 

Philip. Say, Digby, what can we do? They might come 
any moment! Can't you get some woman to help us out? 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 7 

Punts. There's cross-eyed Jane who keeps a gin mill on 
the corner, but she doesn't deal in dry goods. 

Philip. Don't give it up. Suggest some remedy. The pro- 
fessor will be vexed if he learns about it. 

Punts. I've got a happy idea. I'll go down to the first flat 
and ask Delia up. 

Philip. But — 

Punts. Never mind, I'll attend to that.. These ladies' 
maids are used to handling such stuff. [Exit C). 

Philip. {Alone). Wait, Digby. Don't. He's gone. A 
girl to come into the professor's room, whose threshold ne'er 
was crossed by woman before. Professor Drissler always says: 
u A woman has no right in the holy chamber of learning." But 
his own wife will soon desecrate the sanctuary. [Takes up a 
lace cap). As transparent as a spider web, tis true, but it must 
look nice when a young smiling face peeps out underneath it. 
H'm, the professor's cousin is young and handsome. I shouldn't 
mind a little tyranny. {Laughing). How would this cap look 
on a skull? 1 must try it. {Opens closet R. several skulls are to 
be seen. He places lace cap on a skull and then ivalks away to ad- 
mire it at a distance). Ah! it doesn't look bad at all. Who knows, 
old chap, whether you had an antipathy for lace caps during 
your life. Perhaps Mrs. Professor might use it as a model. 

Re-enter Digby Punts, R . 

Punts. Just come along. I'll return the favor sometime. 

Enter Delia, R. 

Delia. I really ought not. The professor never notices 
my existence; the tutor makes believe he doesn't see me; and 
you, Mr. Punts, don't know how to say a friendly word. 

Philip. {Embarrassed). But you shouldn't— 

Punts. That young man is too bashful to see you — to 
stare at you; the professor's head is crammed full of Latin 
and stuff, and even I, if I should occasionally flirt with you, 
would you reciprocate? But you'll help us, wont you? 

Delia. For the sake of the young gentleman. What am I 
to do? 

Punts. I told you — pack all this trash back into the trunk. 

Delia. (Kneels before the trunk and packs the articles, which 
are readied to her by Philip). It wont take me but a few 
minutes. , 



s 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Philip. (Reaching things to her, aside). For my sake. And 
she said it so sweetly, so amiably. 

Delia. (Reaching for more articles). Are you dreaming? 

Philip. (Astonished). No. Here you are. 

Delia. (Still packing). These things belong to your new 
mistress? 

Punts. Yes, just arrived. There's one more trunk to come. 
Delia. Do you expect the bridal couple to-day? 
Punts. Yes, Miss Delia. 

Delia. Why don't you give Mr. Tutor a chance to answer? 
He knows more than you. To-day, did you say? 

Philip. Yes, to-day! The professor's wife lives in Kanka- 
kee. The professor arrived there this morning. The wedding 
took place this afternoon, and he will be here this evening. 
The train is due here at 6:40 — only half an hour more. 

Delia. When will they make their wedding trip? 

Philip. What? 

Delia. Doesn't the professor intend making a wedding 
trip? 

Philip. Why he traveled there for the wedding, and they 
made the trip back together. 

Delia. (Aside). He is too fresh! (Aloud) Is there no 
mention made of wedding tours in those musty old books? 

Philip. Not a syllable. 

Delia. And expecting you to know anything out of 
those books would be treason — well, innocence personified 
in the shape of a college tutor. I've finished the job. 

Philip. But I forgot this cap. 

Delia. Which one? 

Philip. (Walks to the closet and shows her cap on skull). 
This one. 

Delia. (Sees it and yells). Oh goodness! Oh! — 

Philip. (Remains stationary). What's the matter?' 

Punts. (Runs up close to her). Are you going to faint? 

Delia. (Shaking). Oh my! how terri — how horrid! 
Please close that bookcase. 

Philip. It's nothing but a plain skull — only a faded flower. 
Take a good look at it. 

Delia. (Holds her hand up to her face). That's perfectly 
hideous — horrible! Please shut the closet door, 

Philip. (Remains perplexed). But — 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 







Punts. [Pinches her arm and pulls her along). Come closer, 
look at it, it wont hurt you. 

Delia. [Gives him a push). But I'll hurt you. [Tenderly 
to Philip). Please close the bookcase. 

Philip. [Pulls lace cap off and closes door). Here! Why 
are you so afraid of an inanimate object? 

Delia. (Puts lace cap into trunk). If the lady knew that her 
cap had been on a dead skull — 

Punts. What of it? 

Delia. You shut up. Nobody's talking to you. (To Philip) 
Have you everything in readiness for the arrival, or can I be 
of service to you in any other matter? 

Philip. (Puzzled). We haven't made any preparations. 

Delia. (Clasps hands together in astonishment). No prepara- 
tions, no flowers, no welcome home, no wedding feast, no re- 
ception? Why the idea! 

Philip. I never heard of such things. 

Delia. Your youth redeems you, but the professor and 
this old codger should have known what's proper. 

Punts. What are you talking about? Everything is in 
readiness, beds, tables, chairs, toilet set — every comfort imagin- 
able. {Sarcastically). Except a looking glass. 

Delia. I believe you were raised among savages. What 
rooms will the lady occupy? 

Philip. (Opens door P). Satisfy yourself — look at them! 

Delia. ( IWilks to the door). H'm, rear rooms — a couple of 
poky holes which we use for storerooms, and right under the 
roof. Why, it'll be hot enough to roast a pig in here. 

Philip. (Bashfully). Why—? What! 

Delia. Why couldn't you give her front rooms? 

Philip. Because the} 7 are all occupied — one is the professor's 
bedroom, the other his study, and the third his library. 

Delia. (Sarcastically). So? And the rear rooms are good 
enough for his wife! 

Philip. I used to sleep in them. But you see I vacated. 
But that is the only change we will make. 

Delia Yes, certainly. That is what you say. 

Punts. [Aside). She's not even polite! She criticises all 
my arrangements! 

Deli a. (Examining the room). And the bride is to live 
here? Not even a carpet on the floor [Laughs). Not even 
a sofa — and no dressing case. 



10 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Punts. (Aside). I expected to be ridiculed. How much 
worse will the real mistress be? Why, she'll turn the house up- 
side down. 

Philip. I did not know that such things were necessary. 
It's not my fault. 

Delia. (Angrily). Well, what do you know? Have you 
hired a girl? 

Philip. A girl ! The professor don't want any. 

Delia {amused). The professor don't want any. 

Punts (aside). H'm! The missus and a girl — Why, we'd 
^oon have a colony. That would completely knock me out. 

Delia. But what does the professor think? 

Philip. That his marriage will not in any way interfere with 
his former household. Digby is tcf attend to those duties, as 
heretofore. 

Punts. Yes. I'm going to attend to them. 

Philip. And I'm to cook the breakfast as formerly. 

Punts. And good coffee Mr. Philip makes. 

Philip. Punts brings us dinner from the restaurant. 

Punts. To get one portion more is all that will be necessary. 

Delia (sarcastically). Really? One portion more? I thought 
you would expect the lady to eat what was left over. That 
would have been in accord with your other plans. 

Philip. Why, don't our plans meet your approval? 

Delia. Your mind is, no doubt, affected by over study. But 
Mr. Tutor, you tell the professor that he should have studied 
up the " treatment of a wife" before marrying. (Pointing to 
Punts). Of course, from this old loon nothing else was to 
be expected, but I — I gave you credit for more sense. I feel 
sorry for the poor woman. But she'll teach you manners, I'll 
bet. But I must be off. H'm, I'll have to tell Mrs. Rosecrans 
about this farce, and inside of an hour every lady in town will be 
talking about the elaborate reception Mrs. Professor Drissler is 
getting, and this will soon infuse some sense of propriety into 
you fellows. (Exit rapidly C). 

Philip. (Lights the lamp). Hu! How angry she got. 

Punts. Well, wasn't I right about women, now you've seen 
an example and can judge the whole race. 

Philip (aside). I wish. I knew what really was needed. 
(Lights student's la??ip). 

Punts. Just as if the professor had time to bother about 
these thousand and one things she'll be wanting. Ha, a 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



11 



dressing case. I'd like to know what they need a dressing 
case for. Oh, woman's vanity! 

Philip. How friendly and pleasant Delia was at first. But 
why did she get into such a temper? 

Punts. Those are women's pranks. But she fixed the 
trunk for us, anyhow, I think I better take it into her room. 
{Carries the trunk away, and exit R.). 

Philip. A pretty girl — so entrancing. But when she got 
angry I feared her, although I'm not so easily frightened. The 
professor's wife ought to be satisfied with those two rooms. I 
wouldn't want anything better — they would make a splendid 
study. I wonder if she is nice. ( Walks to window}. A car- 
riage stopping at the door! Yes, here they are. (Calls Digby). 
Digby! Digby, they're here. 

Punts re-enters R. . 
Punts. That's them. 

Philip. I will go down and meet them. {Exit L). 

Punts {alone). I just know how this thing will turn out, con- 
found it. I'll get my walking. papers before long. {Extracts 
handful of tobacco from a box lying on table and fills up his pouch) 
It's too bad. He was a good man, the professor, even if he was a 
crank. And so punctual with my pay, and never found fault 
with me. And he smokes fine tobacco. And now I'll have to 
smoke Yum Yum again — a nickel a package. And all on ac- 
count of a young woman. Darn the luck! {Looks off). 
Here they come. 

Enter Sylvan Drissler in black frock, white necktie and blue 
vest; pedantic walk; affected appearance, C. 

Enter Cleopatra behind hi?n in cloak and hat, traveling cos- 
tu?ne; carries a satchel, C. 

Sylvan. Now we're home. And, as we are man and wife, 
it is proper that in our relations before others 'we act as married 
people do, and not appear ridiculous. Cleopatra, I welcome 
you home. May God bless your entrance! {Calls). My coat. 
(Punts sneaks out on tip toe, L.) 

Enter Philip, brings an alpaca coat, L. 

Sylvan , ( Takes off frock and puts on alpaca coat, pointing to 
R). Those are your rooms. You have unlimited freedom 



12 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



there — can do, and have done whatever you desire— of course 
as long as it does not inconvenience me, as I am always en- 
gaged in scientific and literary researches. I do not, under 
any circumstances, wish to be disturbed. In fact, I shall con- 
tinue living exactly as heretofore. {Puts tobacco pouch which 
Philip brings i7itohis pocket, takes his long pipe and hat). I am 
in the habit of going to the club every evening. At 8 o'clock 
I leave here; at 10 I return — to retire to bed. I shall adhere 
to this custom, and it being already 10 minutes to 8, I beg to 
be excused. Good-night. {Exit C). 

Philip. {Escorts him out and exits C). 

Cleopatra. {Remains standing in astonishment). 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene. — The same. {Enter Cleopatra, in morning wrapper 

Cleopatra. The first night in my new home. There is a 
saying that the dreams of the bridal night come true. I did not 
dream very much, though. But I slept so restlessly. What a 
life! What will my next experience be? I am married. But 
to whom? To a man? I rather think to a book. He pleaded 
indifferently for my hand. He acted uninterested at the 
ceremony. He sat indifferently at my side during the drive 
home. Not a friendly syllable, not a confiding word — not th 
least sociability. He considers women inferior beings — slaves 
or perhaps his pupils. Probably he has read such detestabl 
theories in some of these old books. He accords me the wors 
rooms in the house. He will not change his habits, or be dis 
turbed in bachelor life. Shall I serve him as a maid, or onlyb 
tolerated or accepted as an agreeable addition to the inherit 
ance? Would it not have been wiser to have sacrificed thi 
money and to have remained free and unfettered from sue 
bonds? Pshaw, Cleopatra! banish this down-heartedness 
Was it not your own free will? And do you want to deny tha 
you felt a desire to be this ingrate's wife — that you felt an in- 
clination for this man since you first saw him — four years ago; 
that you could not banish him from your heart? Yes, I loved him, 
but he does not reciprocate it. Well, he does not yet know m 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 13 

— does not know any woman. He stubbornly believes that 
women should be treated thatw'ay. He thinks he is right. I 
will have to convince him of the error of his opinion. I shall 
have to learn to please him. I have evidence that he is pure, 
and possesses a noble character. Whims and prejudices can be 
overcome. It will astonish me very much if I cannot convert 
him, especially if I am resolved to succeed. But I hear some- 
thing moving in the room adjoining. Now then, Mr. Professor, 
you like quiet and peace. Just prepare yourself, for your 
quietude will be somewhat disturbed. We shall soon see 
whether your methodical bias will gain supremacy over your 
young wife. (Exit R). 

Enter Philip, C. He carries coffee pot, a small kettle and several 
cups. He places the cups on the table, R, starts wood fire in 
grate and puts on kettle and coffee pot* 

Philip. How quiet! They are all sleeping yet. They are 
probably exhausted from the trip. Well, to-day a new era com- 
mences in this house. I feel somewhat anxious and very in- 
quisitive how Mrs. Professor looks and acts. I could not get 
a good look at her face last night because she was heavily 
veiled, and I did not dare to intrude later. 

Enter Sylvan, R, dressed in long smoking jacket, with lighted 

pipe. 

Sylvan. Oh, ho, Philip! 

Philip. Good-morning, Professor. 

Sylvan. Are you here? (Sits down at his writing desk, L). 
Good-morning. (Writes). Did anything happen yesterday 
in my absence? 

Philip. No, sir. But there is a meeting of the faculty 
called for 4 o'clock this afternoon. 

Sylv an. (Makes note). At what hour do I lecture ? 

Philip. To-day being Saturday, you lecture at n. 

Sylvan. Yes! Logic to the sophomores, and then conic 
sections to the freshmen. (The bell rings, R). 

Sylvan. (Listens). What is that? 

Philip. That sound seems to come from your wife's room. 
Sylvan. Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten. But how did 

* An oil stove may be used, or, in case none is at hand, a fire screen will 
gerve to make believe. 



14 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



she get a bell? I did not give my permission, nor did I give 
orders. 

Philip. No doubt she brought it with her. 

Sylvan. Probably so. ( Writes uninterruptedly. The bell 
again rings, R.) 

Sylvan. What does that ringing mean? Philip, go and 
see what is wanted. (Philip exits, R). 

Sylvan. I will not allow these disturbances. She must 
get used to perfect quiet. I will, once for all, forbid it. H'm, 
if one would only read magis here, instead of magnis, it would 
convey a more elaborate and easier understood meaning. 
This conjecture is practicable. 

Re-enter Philip. 
Philip. Mrs. Professor wants a maid. 

Sylvan. Muellam quandam? Id est servam ancillam. A 
girl ? For what? 

Philip. Probably as a servant. 

Sylvan. That cannot be done. Girls are talkative, vain 
and unreliable. I could not hear of such a thing. . Tell her 
that, Philippe. (Philip re-exits, R). 

Sylvan. That would be awful ancillas. Maids to have in 
my house. Such a fickle genus. Dei avertant. God forbid. 

Philip re-enters* 

Philip. Mrs. Professor desires a girl to help her dress. 

Sylvan. To dress ? Mehercule. I never need anybody to 
help me dress. However, women are the weak, necessitous sex. 
Go and help her, Philippe. 

Philip. [Rushes for the door). 

Sylvan. [Calls). Wait a moment. [Aside). But perhaps 
it is not proper to allow a young man who is intrusted to my 
care to come in such close contact with a woman. [Aloud). 
Never mind. I will give her my personal attention. [Makes a 
few steps, and the?i remains standing). But no. Should the 
husband do such services for his wife ? Servae, slaves helped 
the Roman women in dressing; presumably also with the 
Greeks. H'm, perhaps some authority exists on this subject. 
Still, I do not recall any passages. I will note that and look 
into it. ( Walks to his desk. The bell rings, R). 

Sylvan. Oh yes, my wife calls. Should P No, that 
would hurt the dignity of a man. Such services are improper. 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



15 



Philippe, tell my wife we have no servants to help hen (Philip 
re-exits) . 

Sylvan, {thinking, sits down). This case has never before 
come to my notice. Perhaps some of the Greek authors refer 
to this question. H'm, Homer relates in the Odyssey that the 
servants of Penelope prepared a bath, but he does not make 
any mention of their dressing their mistress. 

Philip re-enters. 

Philip. Mrs. Professor says she will try to get along with- 
out a maid to-day. She will help herself. ( Walks to the grate 
fire). 

Sylvan. Clytemnestra prepared a bath for Agamemnon. It 
follows, therefore, that, with the Greeks, women served their hus- 
bands, but not reversely. Still, the Charites attended Aphrodite, 
and waited upon her in dressing. Bu»t Aphrodite was a god- 
dess, and besides, the Charites cannot be compared with ordi- 
nary servants. I must read it up. The question is of the 
highest importance. 

Enter Cleopatra, R. 

Cleopatra. Good-morning. 
Philip. ( Looks at her sideways) . 

Sylvan. {Does not notice her greeting, is engaged in writing). 

Cleopatra. {Walks to Sylvan, puts her arm around the 
back of his chair , bends over him, and pleasantly says)'. Good- 
morning. 

Sylvan. {Did not notice her app roach , frightened and sh t -inks 
from her). Good-morning. (Cleopatra remains in this 
position as if expecting a more cordial greeting. Sylvan abashed, 
moves his chair). 

Cleopatra {retreats with dignity). How did you sleep? 

Sylvan. As usual. {He seems uninterested, but confused and 
less autocratic. His behavior is due to ignorance and prejudice, 
not to rudeness) . 

Cleopatra {after they both look at each other, in under tone). 
You do not ask how I slept. 

Sylvan. I consider that question superfluous. 

Cleopatra {tenderly, and smiling). Does it seem superfluous 
for the husband to ask that of his wife? 

Sylvan. The Romans knew no such greeting. 

Cleopatra. So ? And how did they greet their wives ? 



16 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Sylvan. Their wives? H'm, I really do not know whether 
they used anything besides the usual salve (sal-ve). {Murmurs 
while writing). And that is the second important question 
which has puzzled me this morning. I must make a note of 
that. How did the Romans greet their wives ? {Writes, and 
sticks pencil behind ear). 

Cleopatra {aside). So it is the Romans that stand in my 
way, and occupy my place as a wife. So it is the Romans 
which I wBl have to fight and expel. {Courageously). We shall 
see if a young woman cannot beat these old mildewed Romans. 
{Aloud). Say, dear, did the Romans drink coffee? 

Sylvan {always appearing learned and important when such 
topics are discussed.) Nunquam, never! The breakfast of the 
Romans, prandium, consisted — but, strictly speaking, the pran- 
dium of the Romans was different from our breakfast. {Aside). 
More like our lunch. H'm, that is the third question of im- 
portance that arises this morning. ( Writes). 

Cleopatra. Not wishing to give you any further work, I'll 
simply ask, do we drink coffee ? 

Sylvan. Certainly. Philippe! 

Philip. Professor, at once! 

Sylvan. You will have it in a moment. 

Philip. In a moment, professor. (Fetches cups. Aside). 
H'm, that old Punts does not know what he is talking about. 
Why, she is as sweet and tender as- an angel. 

Sylvan {aside.) My wife appears real handsome. She seems 
very docile and yielding. We will certainly get along nicely. 

Cleopatra. {Stands to the R. of table and opens a book). 
Until Mr. Philip has prepared the coffee we can talk over some 
matters. How do you intend keeping house? 

Sylvan. I have already told you that I do not wish any 
interference in my household affairs. 

Cleopatra. What are your household affairs? 

Sylvan. They are very plain. Breakfast is prepared by 
Philippe, dinner is brought by the bootblack, and supper I eat 
at the club. You can send the bootblack for your supper 
whenever you feel like eating. 

Cleopatra {quietly). My dear, to those plans I cannot giv^ 
my sanction. 

Philip, (surprised). What? 

Cleopatra. Your ideas are those of a bachelor. They can 
not be brought into execution in a house where a woman rules. 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



17 



Sylvan. Oh, I am ready to yield somewhat to your wishes, 
but my work and study require — 

Cleopatra (smiling). Oh, my household will not disturb 
your study or work. 

Sylvan. What propositions do you make? 

Cleopatra, Propositions ? I think the housewife has not 
only a consulting, but a deciding voice. 

Sylvan. Deciding? That is toq strong a term. The 
Roman and Grecian women were in the gymnasium. 

Cleopatra (calmly). I did not intend to establish either a 
Roman or a Grecian, but an American household. I will tell 
you briefly what I wish: Firstly, I want a cook. 

Sylvan. But what would such a talkative thing do in this 
house ? 

Cleopatra Cook, my dear, nothing else. I will look 
after the breakfast; dinner will not be sent for, but it will be 
cooked in the house, and it will be better for vou to eat your 
supper at home. > 

Sylvan. Never can I consent to such a revolution of my 
household. Preparation of victuals in the house — the odors, 
the heat, the noise, never! 

Cleopatra. My dear, you minister to the Romans and 
Greeks. I'll attend to the household. 

Sylvan (rising). Why, you talk — 

Cleopatra ( firm and determined). As a housewife should. 

Sylvan 1 will never assent to these plans. The man is 
master in his castle, and his will is law. 

Cleopatra. It would have been far better if you had 
studied the code before marrying. The man is master of his 
house, but the woman is mistress. 

Sylvan. Mulier taceat in ecclesia. 

Cleopatra. That is Greek to me. 

Sylvan. I beg your pardon, it is Latin, and means "Woman 
has no voice in church." # 

Cleopatra. In church ? All right. But at home the wife 
does not remain silent. She gives orders, she rule?, and this 
necessitates her talking, and at times very plain talking. 

Sylvan. That proverb is also used figuratively. It means 
the wife should submit to the will of her lord and master. 

Cleopatra. And it further means that the husband should 
not exceed his rights. 

Sylvan. The husband's rights are unlimited, "And he 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



should be thy master," says Moses, and the apostle Paul says: 
"Ye wives are subjects of your husbands;" why, the wise and 
noble Penelope even, obeyed her son Telemachus, when he 
ordered her into her own chamber. 

Cleopatra. You need not get excited. The wise and 
noble Penelope acted according to her ideas. I am an Amer- 
ican, and act according to the dictates of my conscience, and 
according to custom. 

Sylvan. What, you dare oppose my commands! H'm, I 
thought you were obedient and yielding. (/;; a pedantic tone). 
But I am glad that you display your insubordination, for I can 
thoroughly demonstrate to you what position the wife must 
occupy in reference to her husband. Woman is inferior to 
man in body, as well as in mind, and the husband, therefore, 
exercises a control over her like a guardian over a minor. 
Such is the doctrine of the lex Romana. And, in accordance 
with that, the Roman women were confined to their separate 
rooms, and were not even permitted to appear at the ccena, the 
meal. The best authorities of ancient Greece interpret the 
law in the same spirit. The most renowned philosophers, even 
the ecclesiastical writers, determine woman's submissiveness to 
man. I will not go so far as Simonides, who compares women 
to foxes, monkeys and dogs. I will not dwell on the unfavor- 
able opinions of Euripides; but the Pythagorean Secundus 
calls women a necessary evil, and the Saint Hieronymus says 
they are ignarae, leves, pertinaces, ignorant, frivolous and stub- 
born. You will, therefore, perceive what relation you should 
bear to your husband. You will subject yourself in silent obe- 
dience to my wishes, and not force me to make use of my 
authority. 

Cleopatra [having listened attentively). Your Pythagorean 
may be correct in calling us ignorant, frivolous and stubborn. 
I am ignorant, as far as your brutal philosophers and eccle- 
siastics are concerned, and I thank God that I am not cogni- 
zant of their nonsense. I may also* be frivolous, and I am glad of 
it, for it requires considerable frivolity to keep a well balanced 
mind amid your collection of antique moldy authorities, and, 
in order to fully indorse the opinion of that Pythagorean, I 
will also be stubborn, and I will not acknowledge your su- 
premacy in household affairs. 

Sylvan {excitedly). You will have to ! 

Cleopatra (fir ml)}. But I will not ! 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



19 



Sylvan. I will force you ! 
Cleopatra. You dare not ! 

Sylvan {madly rushes at her). You dare me, femininum ! 

Cleopatra {her hands are folded on her back, and she stares 
him unconcernedly in his face, after a pause y smiling). My learned 
spouse ! 

Sylvan (disarmed by her fearlessness, mutters inaudibly). 
Well, we will see. 

Cleopatra. Let us sign an armistice until after breakfast. 

Sylvan (sits doivn, aside). I will find some means of coer- 
cion. 

Cleopatra (looking about). I do not see any preparations 
being made for breakfast. 

Sylvan. What preparations are necessary? I drink my 
coffee while at work; yours can be brought to your room. 
(Philip brings Sylvan a cup of coffee to his desk, and reseats 
himself at the fireside). 

Cleopatra. For this once I will consent to breakfast in 
this manner. (Shoves all the books on table, R., into a heap). 

Sylvan (exclaims excitedly). Stop ! Those books — 

Cleopatra. Is not your wife entitled to some room ? Mr. 
Philip, please bring my coffee here. (Philip brings her a cup 
of coffee to table, R.) 

Enter Punts, C. Remains in the rear, unloads some books, and 
starts to brushing some clothes that hang over a chair. 

Punts. Good-morning, ladies and gentlemen. 

Sylvan (muttering). Good-morning. (Philip sits close to 
grate fire, and is drinking). 

Cleopatra (sitting at table, R., turns about, looks at him in a 
friendly way). Good-morning. 

Punts (aside). H'm, ah, that's she. And in the study! 
(Shakes his head). 

Cleopatra (having drank). Phew! Phi, what do you call 
this drink ? 

Sylvan (who is writing). What is the matter ? 
Philip (rises, embarrassed). Don't you like the coffee ? 
Cleopatra. Coffee ? You call that coffee ? 
Philip. Freshly warmed. 
Cleopatra. Oh, warmed over ! 

Philip. We always cook the coffee a fortnight in advance, 
and then warm up, each day, the necessary quantity. 



A 



20 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Cleopatra [jumps up). Now, that is too much. [Laughs 
heartily and loudly). 

Punts [makes for the door). Now, the bomb will explode. 
Cleopatra. And you expect me to drink such coffee ? 
Philip. But I have — 

Cleopatra [without taking notice of him, and with a decide 
rapid motion). I will show you what coffee is. Is that wat 
• in the kettle ? 

Philip. Fresh spring water. I was about to make our two 
weeks' supply. 

Cleopatra. Is it boiling ? 

Philip. Not quite. 

Cleopatra. You will find a coffee pot in my room. Please 
fetch it. (Philip exits, R.) 

Cleopatra. And you, back there, what is your name ? 

Punts. Punts — Digby Punts. 

Cleopatra. Well, Digby, go to the bakery for roils. 
Punts [looking at Sylvan). But I — 

Cleopatra. Here is money. [Takes some money from 
Sylvan's desk?) Here you are. 
Punts. But I don't — 

Cleopatra. Vienna, rolls. Do you understand ? 
Punts. But Mr. Professor must first — 
Cleopatra [angrily stamping her foot). Will you mind ! 
Go at once ! (Punts, puzzled, exit rapidly, C.) 
Sylvan. What a noise ! 

Cleopatra. Keep cool, you will presently have a cup of 
coffee. 

Enter Philip with coffee pot, R t 
Philip. Here, Mrs. Professor. 

Cleopatra. Hand it right here. [Puis it on small bench 
before the grate). Who lives in the first flat ? 
Philip. Mrs. Rosecrans. 

Cleopatra. Go down there and ask Mrs. Rosecrans if she 
will kindly help me out with cream and butter, as I am not yet 
quite in order. 

Philip. I will be back in a moment. [Exit, C). 

Sylvan. But wife, that will never do. 

Cleopatra [lovingly). Poor husband, if you always drank 
such poor, miserable coffee it does not surprise me that you 
were so down-hearted. That accounts for your peculiar 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



21 



whims. Poor coffee makes one anaemic, and produces melan- 
cholia and hypochondria. No, dear hubby, I will not allow it. 
You shall have a strong, nourishing cup of coffee. Oh yes, my 
spouse. {Exit, R.) 

Sylvan. Although she refuses to obey, she is active and 
quick; that looks well. 

Enter Punts, all out of breath, with a large package of rolls. 

Punts. Here I am! Oh, Mr. Professor, how I ran. (breathes 
hard like a fat man ; business^ I fairly jumped ! 

Sylvan. Exercise is good for you. 

Cleopatra (with small spoons). At last you have come! 
Put the rolls on the table, (walks to the grate fire, pours coffee 
into the pot, and pours water fro?n the kettle into the coffee). 

Punts (places rolls on the table, R,) They are perfectly 
fresh — baked this morning. 

Cleopatr a, I want you to roll that table into the center of 
the room! 

Punts. But there's books on it. 

Cleopatra. Put the books on a chair. 

Punts. What ! Books on a chair ? 

Cleopatra You are frightfully clumsy and slow, (puts 
kettle down and hurries to rear, places books rapidly from table on 
chair, some of which fall down). Everything is filled with 
books; there is hardly room to move about in this cramped dp 
library. Well, now put the table in the center — hurry up. 
(hurries to the grate and pours water on). 

Punts carries table in center, but not too close to front. 

Sylvan (disturbed). Oh, you are creating an awful dis- 
turbance ! 

Cleopatra. Not at all; you will soon see in what beautiful 
order everything is. 

Enter Philip carrying a pitcher with crea?n and a plate with butter. 

Philip. Mrs. Rosecrans wishes to be remembered, and hopes 
you will excuse her non-appearance. Miss Delia gave me 
these things, (places everything on table R.) 

Cleopatra. On the other table, Mr. Philip ! 

Philip. I beg your pardon ! 

Cleopatra. Now then, just go — never mind; come here. 
Do you understand pouring the water onto the coffee ? 
Philip (does it). Certainly ! 

Cleopatra. That is well done. (Exit into her room). 



22 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Punts. But Mr. Professor, what is going to become of 
us; what will those ancient chaps say if we carry on in such a 
manner ? 

Sylvan. What are you talking about ? You keep mum, and 
let my wife see to things. 

Philip. Oh, what a charming housewife ! She understands 
it well. 

Enter Cleopatra carrying a full coffee set on a tray and a red dam- 
ask tablecloth and napkins. She places coffee service on table, 
R., and hands tablecloth to Punts. 

Cleopatra. Set the table, Digby. 

Punts sets the table. 

Cleopatra. Bring the coffee, Mr. Philip. 

Philip sets the coffee pot o?i table R. 

Cleopatra {pours cream into pitcher belonging to set, places 
rolls on small bread plates). This breakfast set is a wedding 
present from my friend, Ida. Sylvan, you did not pay her the 
least attention, yesterday. Place the chairs, Di^by. 

Punts places three chairs at the table, C. 

# Cleopatra. In my room you will find plates, knives and 
forks; please fetch them, Mr. Philip. 

Philip exit, R. 

Cleopatra. You should not eat your meals while at work; 
it will not agree with yon; take your time to everything — even 
to eating- and drinking. 

Enter Philip carrying plates, knives and forks, and places them 

on table, C. 

Cleopatra {arranges everything and then places coffee service 
on table, C). Is breakfast ready, Sylvan ? (Philip places rolls 
also in center of table C. ) 

Cleopatra (ivalks to Sylvan and with a feigned bote). Will 
you condescend to drink the first cup of coffee which your 
wife prepares in her company ? 

Sylvan (drops his pen and rises.) Yes, you are very amiable ! 
Ah, and how inviting it all looks ! (sits down at table, C.) 

Cleopatra (pours the coffee). Mr. Philip, be seated please. 
(Philip sits down modestly.) 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



23 



Cleopatra [hands Sylvan a full cup). And here is sugar 
and cream; help yourself, Digby. 
Punts. Yes ma'am. 

Cleopatra. Do you know where the seamstress Mary 
Dasch lives? 

Punts. Yes ma'am. 

Cleopatra. Go there and tell her I wish to see her at 
noon. 

Punts. I don't — Mr. Professor, should I? 
Cleopatra [forcibly): Are you not here as a servant? 
Punts. Yes — but — 

Cleopatra. Then hurry off at once without your ifs and 
buts — when I, the lady of the house, tell you something. And 
mind you hurry back, for I want you to attend to a great many 
other matters. Be off now. 

Punts (astonished). All right ma'am. (Exits.) 

Cleopatra (sits down very pleasantly). Well, cher a?ni, how 
is the coffee? 

Sylvan. I will admit never having drank as good a cup 
before. Cleopatra, may I have another cup? 

Cleopatra (pours him another cup). Did you never eat any- 
thing mornings? 

Sylvan. I was accustomed to munch some crackers while 
dressing. 

Cleopatra. Well, permit me to butter a roll for you. 
(butters a roll and hands it to him on a plate.) Eating while 
walking or moving about produces dyspepsia. 

Sylvan. 1 think you are right. The coffee is exquisite. 
Philip, you are not a very apt scholar in the culinary art, you 
can now take a post graduate course. 

Cleopatra (having filled up Philip's cup pleasantly). In 
future I release you from your duties as chef, that will be more 
appropriate for a cook. 

Sylvan. But a cook — 

Cleopatra. Have another cup dear? 

Sylvan. All right — it tastes so splendidly — I will concede 
that you are an expert in cooking coffee. 

Cleopatra. I hope you. will find me an expert in all duties 
of the household. Will Mr. Philip have another cup? 

Sylvan. Philip-/^/ 

Cleopatra. May I fill up Mr. Philippus' cup? 
Sylvan, Philippi! 



24 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Cleopatra. Well, pi. All right, I asked Mr. Philippi. 

Sylvan. Philippum! 

Cleopatra. You are trying to make a fool of me. Is your 
name Philippus, pum, pi or po ? 

Sylvan (pedantically) Those are the four endings of the 
declension. It hurts a thorough grammarian if the wrong 
case is used. 

Cleopatra (laughing). Well husband, perhaps you can 
still teach me the proper endings of the cases. But would you 
not like to smoke a pipe for digestion? 

Sylvan. That would be capital. 

Cleopatra (fetches him a pipe). I know poor uncle Arno 
loved to smoke his pipe with his last cup of coffee. Here, 
Sylvan. 

Sylvan. H'm! H'm! You are so very kind Cleopatra, I 
find it quite comforting to enjoy a breakfast in peace and 
quiet — something I had previously not known of — and it does 
not appear wicked to me to enjoy eating or drinking, for it is 
not gormandizing. Besides, God has given us food for our 
gratification and nourishment. 

Cleopatra. I concur in your version — now light your 
pipe. 

Sylvan (looks at the clock). I would like to (jumps up) but 
oh my! it is already past eleven and I must be off to lecture on 
logic. How the time flies 

Cleopatra. Can't you take a vacation on the first day of 
your married life — I had so much to talk to you about — give 
those sophomores a holiday — do. 

Sylvan (doubtful). I have never missed a lecture. 

Cleopatra. For that very reason miss one now. 

Sylvan. Well, it being already late and I not being 
thoroughly prepared, Philip hurry over to the college and post 
up a notice that Professor Drissler will not lecture to-day. 

Philip. I will go at once. (Exits, C ) 

Cleopatra folds a piece of paper and lights it at the grate fire, 
then hands it to Sylvan. 

Sylvan (not noticing it at once). Oh! 1 thank you. 

Cleopatra (resumes her seat). 'Can you remember our visit 
at uncle Arno's the first time we met? 

Sylvan (smoking and feeling more comfortable). Yes, oh 
yes — four years ago. 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



25 



Cleopatra. Your memory is good. Poor uncle was such 
a cheerful man and loved company, but you always remained 
in the background when all others were having fun. The girls 
always nicknamed you "philosopher." After that I continually 
observed you for I did not see the appropriateness of that name. 
I always imagined a philosopher was an old grey-headed fellow 
while you were young and good looking. 

Sylvan {instructively). Also a young man can be a philoso- 
pher. Philosophy is a science — 

Cleopatra ( flattering). I pray thee no dissertations on 
philosophy now. I understand that philosophy is a science of 
wisdom, but when I think of the sayings of those philosophers 
which you quoted before, I doubt very much whether they are 
wise. 

Sylvan. But they are authorities, the wisest men of an- 
tiquity. 

Cleopatra. And you contend that they had sound views 
{jumps up.) The one that compared us women to foxes, apes 
and even dogs {bowing before him.) Look at me — can you see 
any resemblance in me to a fox or an ape, or — I hate even to 
express it— 

Sylvan {admiring her). My dear child, it is not meant 
literally. Simonides does not speak of physical similarity but 
of psychical qualities. These comparisons are called — 

Cleopatra. Sh! Do not ventilate your wisdom this morn- 
ing {sits down.) Why were you so morose and sullen four 
years ago when we used to be happy? Do you consider it 
wrong to be lively? 

Sylvan. Not that, but a sedate young girl should act 
respectably 

Cleopatra. Why, were we not respectable? 
Sylvan. Oh! I did not mean that — but — but — I — I am 
never at home in ladies' company. 

Cleopatra. Have you associated much with ladies? 
Sylvan. Hardly at all. 

Cleopatra. Then I have caught you, old man, you do not 
know women from your own experience — all your knowledge is 
from those moldy philosophers — and the only reason you 
seemed so reserved was because you were embarrassed and 
bashful. 

Sylvan. Bashful ? Quod non. The man who is dignified 
never becomes embarrassed. I simply felt myself out of place. 



A 



26 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Cleopatra. A man who is impressed with his dignity 
should never find himself out of place. And as you neither 
know our sex nor the manner in which to treat us, I will be 
very indulgent. 

Svlvan {tries to appear dignified but does not succeed well). 
You will be indulgent. The wife indulgent to her husband and 
master. You totally misconceive your position. 

Cleopatra. You think so? Well, aside from the opinions 
you expressed about women and the hard things you said to 
me, after our proposed union was settled I longed for the 
wedding trip. A wedding trip is an established universal 
custom. Instead of that you came to me in a monosyllabic 
way, are married to me in a matter-of-fact way, return here 
in the same monosyllabic way, bring me to your rooms and 
walk away. Should I not be indulgent for such treatment? 

Sylvan (somewhat embarrassed). The Greeks and Romans 
brought their wives in the plainest manner to their houses, out 
of which they seldom went. The ancients knew nothing of 
wedding trips 

Cleopatra. We are not the ancients. I respect the 
Romans and Greeks and their custom%, but you know, we 
Americans have different customs. One of these customs is 
that newly married couples make a wedding trip (getting more 
serious.) Two persons who unite for their entire lives — who 
will share joys and sorrows many, many years — who sacrifice 
the blessed singleness and henceforth only live for each other, 
must learn to yield to each other, to exchange mutual sym- 
pathy and mutual love. Such is a happy wedded life. And 
is it not a beautiful custom for them to begin their wedlock 
in some manner foreign to their general routine? A wedding 
trip is the symbol of the destruction of old cares. They avoid 
meeting for the first weeks the people they always come in 
contact with. The short wedding trip is the symbol of the 
longer trip through life, and during this wedding trip they 
learn to know each other more intimately and their hearts be- 
come more firmly attached to each other. Oh, it is a beautiful 
custom, this wedding trip, a grand preparation for the joys 
and sorrows of matrimony. 

Sylvan (somewhat touched by her graphic description). In 
truth you picture it with so much life — 

Cleopatra (tenderly). And had you really so much work 
that you couid not secure a vacation for this wedding trip? 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



27 



Sylvan. A vacation would not have been necessary, forte- 
morrow our holidays begin. 

Cleopatra {suddenly animated}. Just so! The ancients 
did not make wedding trips, therefore we will not. My talk 
seems<to tire you. 

Sylvan. No — no. you speak so sensibly. 
Cleopatra. Do I, Sylvan? I would like to put a question 
to you. Did the ancients love their wives? 

Sylvan (in a learned tone.) H'm! It is perfectly estab- 
lished that the ancients recognized love. They worshiped a 
god of love, Amor or Eros, and also a goddess, Venus or 
Aphrodite. Still the relations between man and wife were 
entirely different. Women were entirely restricted to their 
households and had neither influence nor say with their hus- 
bands. 

Cleopatra. Is that so? I have heard some stories of 
Lucretia, Arria and Cornelia, etc., which go to prove that the 
ancients esteemed and loved their wives. 

Sylvan (smiling). Pretty well posted on ancient history. 
I am pleased to learn that, and the citation is remarkably well 
adapted. 

Cleopatra. 1 am happy to receive your favorable com- 
ment. If then, the ancients loved and you pretend to do as 
they do — have you ever loved? 

Sylvan (embarrassed). Of course later when Christianity 
appeared the modes of the Romans were metamorphosed. 
Christianity teaches us love to our neighbor, and that I have 
always striven to live up to. 

Cleopatra (has in the meantime collected the dishes and 
placed them on the tray y rises and places them on the table R. 
aside). Just as 1 presumed, ignorance and inexperience. 

Sylvan (aside ) She does everything so neatly, so tidily; 
what a splendid woman! 

Cleopatra {takes hold of table). Will you help me? 

Sylvan. With pleasure. (They carry the table to its proper 
placed) 

Cleopatra. This is a very fine flat, especially the front 
rooms looking on the street. 

Sylvan. Have you seen them? 

Cleopatra (smiling). When you left me last night alone 
I had ample time to examine every corner and unpack my 
trunks. Apropos, I must give you the slumber robe, which 



28 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



cousin Bessie gave us as a wedding present. The present is 
more appropriate for you, and will look very prettily on your 
lounge. (Exits R.) 

Sylvan. She described the wedding trip in such pictur- 
esque terms that I begin to yearn for one. The ancients did 
not venerate this custom, for they had neither stages, railroads 
nor steamships, and we certainly have advanced in this respect. 
A wedding trip to the Rocky Mountains would be very enjoy- 
able. 

Re-enter Cleopatra, R. 

Cleopatra. I had quite forgotten. I put it into this 
closet. 

Sylvan {angrily). In this closet, your clothes? 

Cleopatra {calmly). Having no closet in my chamber I 
was forced to hang them up in here. 

Sylvan. And my instruments and chemical apparatus. 

Cleopatra. I brought those into my bedroom. 

Sylvan (very excitedly). What, my expensive apparatus in 
that damp room? Why, my microscopes will be rusty. 

Cleopatra (tenderly but forcibly). Ah, my dear, and you 
knew that my rooms were damp, and still you expect me to 
sleep in rooms where you would not trust your apparatus. 

Sylvan (touched by the reproach). You are right, I did 
wrong; (rapidly) you can at once move into the tront rooms. 

Cleopatra (amiably). Then you would be forced to give 
instructions and study in the damp ones. No, let us rather 
consider this matter and see how it is most easily arranged and 
if necessary we can take another flat. 

Sylvan. As you decide, Cleopatra, (aside?) How could I 
put her into those damp rooms and she did not even complain 
about it? (aloud.) It was very wrong on my part, dear 
Cleopatra, and I hope you will for — 

Cleopatra. Never mind Sylvan, you did not do it in- 
tentionally, it was want of consideration, (aside, merrily.) 
The first time he ever deared me. (aloud, looking about?) I 
think it advisable to get a larger flat, and then I can make 
better arrangements for a kitchen. 

Sylvan. And so you still insist on having a cook? 

Cleopatra (firmly). Mr. Professor, the household be- 
longs to my dominion. What would you say if I contradicted 
you in reading a passage in Plautus? I am determined to have 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



29 



another flat. These old Greeks and Romans will feel insulted 
when they are forced to vacate their quarters. They were as 
thoroughly acclimated as if they intended to remain forever. 
{Making a funny bow.) Yes my dear friends Cicero, Virgil, 
Horace, Tacitus, Terence and your bosom chums Sophocles, 
Homer and Pmdar, you shall emigrate. 

Sylvan. Why, Cleopatra, you are quite at home with 
them. 

Cleopatra. No! I only have a superficial knowledge of 
these dead heroes. Just as much as any good Christian 
woman should know of them, not to get into bad repute. 

Sylvan. One can never know them thoroughly enough. 

Cleopatra. Yes one can, if it involves forgetting the 
living. We are living over two thousand years later and we 
should not adopt their ideas or customs, or else we become 
antiquated and useless. 

Sylvan. Oh now, you are intruding into my field and I will 
not retreat from my position. I will fight you with your own 
weapons. Life is — 

Cleopatra [laughing). Hold on! Do you really believe 
me silly enough to contest your own stronghold with you? 
Oh no, you quote theory and I practice. 

Enter Philip, C. 

Philip. Mr. Professor, I have attended to it. 
Sylvan. Well? 

Cleopatra {much amused). You wish to imitate the cus- 
toms of the ancients. Well, just look at yourself in the long 
smoking jacket, the white muffler and the German student's 
pipe, and think you were Plato or Socrates. Does it not make 
you laugh? Or imagine you were Cicero as you were dressed 
yesterday in a swallow-tail coat rising in the Roman senate to 
deliver a great oration, or a Roman youth who is being pre- 
sented with a toga vir — vir — 

Philip. Virilis. 

Cleopatra. Virilis. Does it not make you smile? 
Sylvan. You only speak about the dress, but I speak of 
the manners. 

Cleopatra. Well, doesn't the dress give some indications 
of the culture, or have you learned gentlemen different theories? 
Sylvan (naively). No. 

Cleopatra (seriously). Well then, I could reply and say 



30 THE WEDDING TRIP. 

you judge them from the exterior, for you simply live up to 
their language. 

Sylvan. I would like to hear your further argument. 

Cleopatra. Oh, how you would love to entangle me in a 
logical discussion in which you would become the victor and I 
the victim. No sir, I argue from my own standpoint. If you 
choose to be a Roman then start imitating the external 
manners of the Romans. How tasteless a clean shaven lip and 
a pompadour coiffure. Place such a head with a standing 
up collar on a Roman statue and see how ridiculous it would 
appear. 

Sylvan. You say senseless and ridiculous. 

Cleopatra. Mr. Philippe, please sit down here. 

Philip. Yes, Mrs. Professor {takes a chair and seats himself 

in C of stage.) 

Cleopatra {quickly fetches a comb out of dressing case in 
closet). Would a Roman ever have worn his hair like a 
drowned porcupine? [Combs Philip's hair backward and then 
makes a pretty part in center, combs hair to each side.) You call 
us women vain because we like to arrange ourselves neatly and 
tidily, and I am sure God gave us this gift because he wants 
the human beings to appear different from owls. {Has finished 
Philip's headdress.) Now look at that face, the ensemble. 

Sylvan. Yes it looks nicer, but Cleopatra, it does not suit a 
serious man — 

Cleopatra. What, not to look handsome? {Looks with 
funny expression into his eyes.) And why not? Especially for 
a newly married man. "Tell me candidly: Have you ever 
desired to please me? 

Philip gets up, looks into a mirror, fixes his collar and tie, 

and appears pleased. 
. Sylvan. Never in dress, 

Cleopatra. Confess, you never thought of it. As punish- 
ment for your thoughtlessness sit down and I will arrange 
your hair also. 

Sylvan. But Cleopatra, how can you think of such a thing, 
a dignified professor. 

Cleopatra {pushes the chair to^'ard him). Please, please 
do. 

Sylvan. You are making fun of me. 

Cleopatra {quickly parts his hair in center, smiling). And 
did not your ancients make fun occasionally? 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



31 



Enter Punts, C. 

Punts. The seamstress will be here at noon. 
Cleopatra. All right. 
Punts. Oh, how funny! 
Cleopatra. What is funny? 
Punts. Mr. Professor has had his hair dressed. 
Cleopatra. To complete the trio I have a good mind to 
take you next. 

Punts. But my wig — 

Cleopatra (making a low bow). Dear Sylvan, take a look 
at yourself in the mirror. 7 

Sylvan (looks at himself). 'Tis true, it looks well. 

Cleopatra. Now if you would wear a Prince of Wales 
collar and a Prince Albert coat and you would take me out 
walking on the boulevard, people would say what a hand- 
some couple. 

Sylvan. Oh what vanity, I am ashamed of myself. 

Cleopatra. Vanity? A little vanity goes well, perhaps I 
can spare you some of mine, for I may be too vain. I confess 
I have yearned to please you, and in order to please you I 
fixed myself especially for you yesterday but (funnily aggrieved) 
you never even noticed me. 

Sylvan. Oh yes you pleased me, pleased me very much. 

Cleopatra. Then that pleasure must have been internal, 
for it was not perceptible. Why, you never even offered me 
your arm. Sylvan, did you never offer other girls your arm? 

Sylvan (sincerely). Never — why, I never associated with 
young girls. I was like Poo Bah in the "Mikado," I never 
spoke to young girls. 

Cleopatra (more spi?'ited). Perhaps, then, you have never 
kissed. 

Sylvan. How could I have done that? 

Cleopatra. Perhaps you do not even know how it is done. 
There you see learned man you can still learn something from 
your ignorant wife. I will show you how it is done. Mr. 
Philippus, one moment please. 

Philip (walks toward her). Mrs. Professor — 

Sylvan. What are you going to do? 

Cleopatra. Show you how one kisses. 

Sylvan {with increasing jealousy steps between them). But 
not on him. 



32 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



Cleopatra. Well, on whom? 
Sylvan. Well if it must be — on — on me. 
Cleopatra {dignified). Would it be proper if I kissed 
you? 

Sylvan {slaps his forehead with his hand, walks a few steps 
and then decisively). Punts! 

Punts {sorrowfully). Mr. Professor. 

Sylvan. Go to the trunk store and tell them to send me 
three or four fine trunks at once. 

Punts (who always re?nains sta?iding at the door). Is the 
Professor going to travel? 

Sylvan. Never mind what I am going to do; do as you are 
told. 

Punts {in going out). Just as I surmised, the woman has 
set them all crazy. {Exit, C.) 
Sylvan. Philip. 
Philip. Mr. Professor. 

Sylvan. Go to Redfern the tailor, and order him at once. 

Philip. Yes sir. Good day. {Exits C.) 

Sylvan {standing in front ^Cleopatra bashfully) Dearest 
Cleopatra, let us make the wedding trip after all — but at once 
— we will leave immediately, does it suit you? 

Cleopatra. Your wishes coincide with mine. 

Sylvan. Loving wife, I met you so coldly, so chilly, so 
unconcernedly, but I did not know any better. 

Cleopatra. I understand, these ancient philosophers 
were wedded to you. 

Sylvan. But you have absolutely divorced us {with naive 
embarrassment)) You are so amiable, I never knew that 
before. 

Cleopatra {lovingly). Are you serious, Sylvan dear, will 
you like my cheerful manners, my easy disposition? 

Sylvan {lovingly). Yes dear, I would not desire you 
different {bashfully). You complained that I did not offer 
you my arm. May I offer you my hand {stretches out his 
hand.) 

Cleopatra {stretches out hers). Here! 

Sylvan. The other one too {takes hold of her by both hands, 
draws her to him and puts his right arm around her waist, 
abashed)) I feel so queer, Cleopatra dearest, will you excuse 
my awkwardness ? 



THE WEDDING TRIP. 



33 



Cleopatra {looking lovingly into his eyes). Your awkward- 
ness will not hurt you in my eyes. 
Sylvan. No? 

Cleopatra {smiling). Oh no. 
Sylvan. Then promise me — 
Cleopatra. AVhat? 

Sylvan {embarrassed) % You wanted to kiss Philip before; 
although he is only a youth, you should not do that. 

Cleopatra. Dearest husband, that was only a little farce. 
Sylvan. Really? 

Cleopatra. You say yourself you are a little awkward. 
You see I had to excite you. 

Sylvan. And if that had been of no avail, if I had remained 
cold and distant? 

Cleopatra. Then the happiness of my life would have 
been forever destroyed. Marriage without love is like hell on 
earth. 

Sylvan. And you risked your happiness? 

Cleopatra . I loved you even prior to uncle Arno's death, 
for without love, money could have never charmed me. 

Sylvan. You dear loving Cleopatra (would like to, but has 
not the courage io kiss her.) We start on a wedding trip to- 
day. 

Cleopatra. And — and your philosophers? 
Sylvan. Are old fools. 



CURTAIN. 




iiiiiiSw ^ 

041 198 361 4 a 



SCZ^^Z 9 . E002EC 

I^egi nation Series 
m- rvr. soper. 

ALL SORTS OF GOOD THINGS. 

CONTENTS OF NO. 2. PRICE POST-PAID, PAPER, 25 CENTS. 



13^ 



Albert Drecker (Pathetic). 
Better in the Morning (Pathetic). 
Blue Sky Somewhere. 
Wounded (Battle Poem). 
Papa's Letter (Pathetic). 
Grandfather's Reverie (Pathetic). 
The Old Village Choir. 
At the Party. 

Romance at Home (Humorous). 
The Legend of the Organ Builder. 
I Vash So Glad I Vash Here (Very Hum- 
orous). 

Der Dog und der Lobster (Humorous). 
What Was His Creed ? 
Dedication of Gettysburg Cemetery. 
Time Turns the Table (Excellent). 
The Man Who Had-'t any Objection 

(Humorous). 
The Soldier's Mother (Sentimental). 
" De Pervisions, Josiar " (Humorous). 
A Response to Beautiful Snow (Sentimental). 
The Defense of Lucknow (Heroic). 
A Model Discourse (Humorous). 
My Darling's Shoes. 
The Volunteer Soldiers of the Union. 
Life (Compilation). 
The Old-Fashioned Mother. 
De 'Sperience ob de Reb'rend Quacko 

Strong (Humorous). 
A Heart to Let. 

Jimmy Butler and the Owl (Humorous). 
Presentiments ^Pathetic). 
Eloquence t.r Oratory. 
Raising the Flag at Sumter. 
Parrhasius and the Captive. 
Portent. 

He Wasn't Ready (Humorous). 
The Old Clock in the Corner. 
An Illustration (Fine Description^. 
The Seven Stages. 
The Bells of Shandon. 



Circumlocution on the House that Jack 

Built (Fine). 
The Brakeman goes to Church, (Humorous' 
Address to Class of '77, Knox College. 
Bay Billy, (Battle Incident). 
The Flood and the Ark (Humorous Darky 

Sermon). 
The Steamboat Race. 
Battle of Gettysburg. 
A Connubial Eclogue (Humorous). 
The Chambered Nautilus. 
! Ascent of Fu-si Varna. 

The Musician's Tale (Splendid Sea Talc) 
Vera Victoria. 

Ruining the Minister's Parrot (Very 

Funny). 

The Irish Philosopher (Humorous). 

TEMPERANCE PIECES. 

Confession of a Drunkard. 
The Fatal Glass. 
The Gambler's Wife. 
Dream of the Reveler. 
The Lost Steamer. 
One Glass More. 
I'll Take what Father Takes. 
A Glass of Coli Water. 
The Glass Railroad. 
Signing the Pledge. 
The War with Alcohol. 
A Tragedy. 
Only a Glass of Cider. 
Traffic in Ardent Spirits. 
Why ? 

Pat's Bondsman. 
The Modern Cain. 
We do not Stop to Think. 
The Fate of a Fast Voung Man. 

Lemonade. 

Hurrah for the Foorth av July. 

Charybdis. 



T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 

163 Randolph Street, CHICAGO. 



